Deterioration
Prologue

"The cells are breaking down on a molecular level and they are doing so at an accelerated rate, sir." The man in the white lab coat eyed his boss with growing alarm as he delivered the bad news.

"Yes, I can see that for myself, Dr. Garcia," Bishop said, studying the computer readout.

Pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose, Bishop began to ask a question when the pain hit him again. The skin on his back seemed to peel away from his spine and crawl with agonizing slowness to his shoulders.

Fists clenched and jaw tight, Bishop rode out the effects of his body's tissue rejection. The doctor started to reach out to him but thought better of it and remained perfectly still.

"Agent Bishop . . . ." the doctor began.

"How long until complete deterioration?" Bishop asked through clenched teeth.

"The computer models all show that total molecular breakdown will occur within sixty-five to seventy-eight hours," Dr. Garcia responded.

"Let's say sixty to be on the safe side," Bishop said. "What of Dr. Stockman's protocols?"

Dr. Garcia's lips curled in disdain. "Flawed. It appears he made assumptions rather than relying on empirical methodology."

"He always did think too highly of himself," Bishop murmured. "What are we left with?"

"The stored cellular tissue is unusable in its present form," Dr. Garcia said. "It has begun to degrade inside the vacuum of the stasis chamber. The cloned base model is intact, but completely useless without the living tissue needed to fully generate it."

"So what you're saying doctor, is that within sixty hours I will cease to exist unless I find a host body?" Bishop asked.

Dr. Garcia blinked rapidly, his concern apparent. "We might possibly be able to use the cerebral transference device to capture your mental essence and hold it, but I cannot guarantee there would be no disbursement of energy."

"That is not an acceptable alternative," Bishop said. "There is no chance for even a temporary body?"

"Too many factors are involved to make that viable," Dr. Garcia answered. "A temporary vessel constructed from the unstable tissue might simply, for lack of a better term, melt on the table just as you entered it. If we could pin down the genetic stabilization key it might be possible to rejuvenate the tissue and infuse it with the necessary coding to prevent future deterioration. Dr. Stockman's original theory was brilliant, he just did not test it enough."

"Always in a hurry to receive accolades without actual accomplishment," Bishop observed. "Unfortunately I must now copy that tendency of his to rush things. How much time will you need to develop a way to stabilize the tissue?"

The doctor's mouth popped open and then shut, his face growing red. "I don't know that I can do it actually," Dr. Garcia finally admitted. "The technology involved is beyond my expertise, as is the raw science. Possibly Dr. Stockman could achieve it."

"Dr. Stockman is not available," Bishop cut in sharply. "Surely there is another scientist of his caliber, preferably one who is mentally stable, who can be brought in to work on this?"

"I have already made discreet inquiries. None of the other scientists in this field have Dr. Stockman's level of knowledge, experience, or intellect," Dr. Garcia said.

Bishops eyes narrowed in thought. "It seems that if I am to survive I will need to find a genius," Bishop said slowly. "One who I can trust and who is not certifiable."

"Sir, I don't know . . . ." the doctor started to say before trailing off at the look on Bishop's face.

"But I do," Bishop told him. "I do know of someone who is more brilliant than the great Dr. Stockman. Someone who is young, impressionable, and has a very high moral standard. Unfortunately, he hates my guts."

"Perhaps if I spoke to him, appealed to his scientific curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Surely a colleague could not turn down such a request," Dr. Garcia offered.

"I'm afraid he could," Bishop said with an amused smile. "You see, I tried to dissect him once. Now I'm rather glad I failed. However, that incident will not dispose him to be sympathetic to my current plight."

"That is problematic," Dr. Garcia said neutrally.

Bishop laughed humorlessly. "Oh, the task of engaging his assistance isn't insurmountable my good doctor. It simply requires the correct bait and an offer he won't be able to refuse."

Stepping over to the communications console, Bishop tapped the keyboard briskly. The large monitor above it flickered to life to show him a man dressed in military garb.

"Agent Bishop, sir," the man responded swiftly.

"Major, activate beta epsilon nine immediately," Bishop ordered.

"Yes sir," the major responded, snapping a salute as the screen darkened.

Bishop turned around, the glint in his eyes visible through his dark glasses as he said, "Tonight we go hunting."

TBC…..